Page 56 of Santa's Baby

“Yeah,” Seb says. “We’ll only be down the hall. Don’t miss out on the show for the sake of one bloody phone call.”

I can feel my escape closing up around me. The other guys are nodding, but I’m already stepping away.

“I’d love to, but it’s going to take a lot more than one bloody phone call. This might well be an all-nighter. It’s global.” So many hawk eyes are on mine, perplexed as I gesture to the exit. “Have a good time. I wish I could join you.”

Seb shakes his head, looking at me like I’m a madman.

“At least we know you’ll be joining us for Cream’s hungry butt in a few weeks. Wouldn’t want to miss out on that fun time, would you, Santa?”

A few of the men laugh at that, and I laugh along. “You’ve got me there, Seb. As if I could resist.” I do my very best to keep my composure. “Good evening, gentlemen. Give Harlot an extra spray on my behalf, won’t you.”

My breaths quicken beyond reason the very moment I close the door behind me. I stay in the hall, leaning back against the wall as I message my driver. I wipe the sweat from my brow, pacing on a mission for the front door, but stop in my tracks when the grand entrance appears.

There is the sweet Harlot, hooded and shaking as Len strips her bare. She looks so tiny in comparison to Tiffany. You could play a tune on her ribcage. And her hip bones are clearly visible as Len slides her panties down.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise as he sees me there, but doesn’t say a word. Neither of us do. I communicate as best I can by pointing to my phone and then to the door, mouthingI have to leaveas I grab my coat from the rack.

Harlot flinches as I step up close to her, and my fears solidify to certainty. The idea of playing filthy games with such a willing participant does nothing for me whatsoever. I’m numb as I look at her naked body. Not a hint of animalistic lust in my veins.

I’m quiet as I open the door and mouth abye, and then I’m out of there.

I need to go home. I need to get out of this place. I need to get away from the seedy den that used to satisfy every filthy craving I had.

It’s only a week until my booking with Tiffany, I remind myself – but my resolve crumbles.

I don’t bother waiting for my driver before I call up the Agency app. I click through to the calendar and call upCreamgirl’sprofile.

So many bookings. One after the other. Client after client expecting the beautiful slut to arrive for their appointments, ready to serve. But I can’t take it.

It’s madness. I know it is. But I do it anyway.

I clickpostponeon every one of themdue to personal circumstances, selecting random dates in the new year for fresh bookings.

There is one I can’t move, though. Not without scrutiny and a whole host of ramifications.

The founders’ gig.

I can’t change that without approval from at least three other members.

Fuck.

It won’t be Harlot standing hooded in Bryson’s hallway in two weeks’ time as Len undresses her, it will be Tiffany, and there is nothing I can do about that. My hands are tied.

But they aren’t entirely tied tonight.

We do need to be responsible advocates of the Agency after all. Entertainers are our primary assets, to be supported at all times.

I click on the address of the Glory Wall.

Just for reference…

And then I log in as User 5639.

14

TIFFANY

User 3980. Male. 39.